


It's A New Dawn, It's A New Day

by fastestgrlalive



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, F/M, LOL i am bad, Love, post breakup
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-11-09 05:56:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20848619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fastestgrlalive/pseuds/fastestgrlalive
Summary: The baby, unexpected, but the bringer of light her life deserved. Dawn, like Barry, was nothing until she was everything. Iris West hadn’t any idea how much she would long for Barry Allen, until he miraculously aligned himself as the center of her universe. With his calamitous exit, Dawn, reflecting the aura of her father gladly took his place.





	1. Crying In Publix

Iris West would have contributed to the existing slew of articles which narrated pregnancy in a positive light, but she had a sneaking suspicion that “Top Ten Things About Carrying Your Ex’s Baby” would be too much in this case. She missed writing with the ferocity she once had, the wanderlust that characterized her mind’s creation. It was as she handed over her journalistic skills and traded them in for those necessary for authors of children’s books.

Listen, she was not complaining in the slightest… But, perhaps a bit, as she toddled down the aisle with a lanky Dawn, pudgy hands grabbing at her dark locks.

* * *

_With her face still splotchy, hair sticking to the remnants of tears on her cheeks, she shrugged in dejection. She had done so well throughout the pregnancy, no slip-ups, no deviations from her plan. She pressed his number into her phone more than a dozen times, but each time regretfully dropping the pad of her thumb against the screen, watching the numbers disappear. She had done it, made it through-- without him. Was she supposed to feel this numb?_

_ When the doctor asked for a name, she thought of the first thing that came to her mind, which was, fortunately, a bit more positive than her expression suggested. “Dawn,” she said with chapped lips and eyes sunken as if they were circled with a black sharpie. She felt like fucking Bella Swan, without the whole back-breaking, blood-drinking shit, of course. Birth was no joke._

_ Later that day, her dad had brought her Big Belly Burger and provisions, including brownies, Andes mints (an alternative to her mint choplate chip), and her favorite true crime novel. Maybe it was a bit chaotic, but Iris was a big fan of Snapped. If only she could watch it in the hospital, give her a few ideas for revenge-- SHE WAS KIDDING. (KINDA?). _

_He asks with fries jutting from his mouth, grease giving his fingers a shimmering illusion,”Why Dawn?”_

_ She gulped back her soda, letting the carbonation bubble on her tongue and in some craven manner, she wanted the bubbles to staunch her impending, weak words. Because Barry was a light, she thought. The hazy memory of his eyes, it nearly brought tears to hers. They had never talked about baby names, but something inside of her told her to be delusional, to think of him when he was not thinking of her. It was the selfish, longing part of her that wanted things to have been different._

_With a shrug, she answered,“She is a new beginning. We anticipated her arrival like we wait for dawn, I thought it fit.” _

_The baby, unexpected, but the bringer of light in her life deserved. Dawn, like Barry, was nothing until she was everything. Iris West hadn’t any idea how much she would long for Barry Allen, until he miraculously aligned himself as the center of her universe. With his calamitous exit, Dawn, reflecting the aura of her father gladly took her place. Her dad nodded. Silence blanketed them and Iris thought to herself, wallowing in the memory of what was and pathetically longing for its return._

* * *

Here she was, doing it. Typical mom things like shopping, picking infant vomit out of her, and pinching herself with the car seat, seething, “Fuck,” and fiercely apologizing to her daughter, who did nothing but gaze up at her with reverence, shiny eyes and all.

Shifting down the baking aisle, Iris sighed, shifting Dawn in her arms and positioning her in the seat of the cart. “I think you’re getting a little heavy, buckets,” she addresses the baby with one of her more uncommon endearments, fitting her pacifier between eager, misled lips.

Iris had gotten used to having chapped nipples and had been greatly traumatized by the unexpected development of Dawn’s teeth, so she definitely felt like her breasts needed a break and the pacifier was not the cruelest trick. Right? As she strides past the brownies, she skids to a stop, prompting a giggle from Dawn, threatening the mission of the pacifier, the object slipping past her belly and to the ground.

Iris’s hand settles on the handle as she crouches down to recover the pacifier, her hair curtaining and obstructing her view. Which, of course, with her luck, she bumps into another patron. She hurriedly shakes her hair out of her face and rushes an apology, “I am so sorry, si---”

She stopped in her tracks.

Barry. Eerily thin, sunken into his once full form, with his once pink lips devoid of saturation, pursed to speak, but impeded. He was still beautiful. Tears wanted to well in her eyes, but Dawn watched with her common curiosity. She realized now how much she favored her father, while with brown eyes, she shared the same fullness. She was lanky, long, and clumsy. Her hair laid in curls at the top of her head, complexion, a perfect combination of she and Barry’s.

He spoke first, stumbling over his words as a pained look overtook his once illuminated face.

“S-so, this is-- who is this?” His voice was shaking as if his equanimity was teetering on the edge of a cliff.

He leaned a hand on the brownie table, mouth twisting into an awkward shape as he gestures toward a babbling Dawn, “I mean, you know, it’s obviously a baby. Cute baby, wow. Yours? She looks like you.”

Iris felt confined by the situation, cursing the universe for its inopportune timing. It seemed Dawn had more in common with her father as her babbling approached higher volumes as if she were mimicking Barry. She was bracing herself to reply when he continued.

“I am really happy you moved on,” he said with a tone that is fragmented glass, shards slinking down his throat and traumatizing tissue as it made its way to his heart.

Iris felt the sharp pain, as each gash manifested itself in painful memories. She shook her head, mouth opening, and closing as she sought worthy words. Her hands move to lift Dawn, settling the entranced mini-human on her hip, gesturing to her as she began to speak.

“I, um… She’s mine,” she bites back the following words, observing the shift in his expression, crumbling Oreos, no cream, all chocolate, and desolation. With a deep breath, she clutched Dawn closer to her, brushing a hand over her playful curls.

“Actually, Barry,” his name felt like peroxide on her tongue, the bubbling nearly curtailing her admission.

“She-She’s ours.” She wanted badly to gauge his reaction, looking for any indication of acknowledgment, or even acceptance. She couldn’t expect it to be so easily accomplished, could she?

His face twisted and in an imaginative stupor, she could see it turn to mirror the patterns of Van Gogh's Starry Night. The castle had been stormed, the night sky thrust inversely, as the news irresponsibly harassed a new reality.

If not for Dawn’s bubbly mood, Iris would have made a run for it already. It was what she wanted, right? She had been dreaming of this moment since before Dawn was born, imagining it differently each time. However, now that it was here, she felt as if she were choking on the inadmissible details. Nothing is ever easy.

He spoke softly, his voice an untuned piano, “A lot can happen in a year.”

Iris’s eyes glistened, the dam withstanding her inundating emotions began to falter. She nodded repeatedly, unconsciously advancing toward him. In this moment, she wanted nothing more than to rush into his arms and find what once was solace. He reflected her, hand raking its way through already disheveled hair as his eyes, darkening and vivid green swelled with thick tears.

“Can I, um, can I hold her?”

She exhaled a breath she didn't realize she was holding.


	2. Mint Choplate Chip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A glimpse into the mind of a Barry Allen. One year, post-breakup, with an unexpected bundle of joy breaking the ice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I am just feeling this story out as of now, but I really wanted to tackle something in an AU, while I love a very fast Barry Allen. Don't hate me for the angst, but get into it! Think about the long, hard months of pregnancy and the holes in their chests. Promise there'll be a happy ending.

Barry Allen had never been one to drop his head, but the sun felt vindictive today, penetrating his already tired eyes. He hadn't slept much recently. By recently, he meant, the past twelve months. Between work, crying about Iris, drinking away his sorrows, and--did he mention crying about Iris? His diminished green orbs ached, his tear ducts having begged for a reprieve. Anyway, there he was, stumbling through Publix and smiling at the older lady who quickly (okay, as quickly as a seventy year old could) assured that he was okay. His now roommate, Cisco, a successful engineer, shoved a twenty into his hand and ordered Barry, " get some goddamn food, skinny boy."

His converse adverse to the terrain skid along the smudgy tile floor with ease, at times, nearly causing him to skate down aisle six. He doesn't know why his feet carried him to the ice cream, why he took his time studying each container as if he didn't know his inevitable choice. Breyer's had a nice mint chocolate chip, enough sweetness to satiate his sadness, but enough bite from the mint to jog his memory all over again. He felt like Cisco knew how hollowed he was, silently judging him each time Barry came home with a handful of sweets. He didn't even like sweets. But, they were the closest thing to her, he'd always justified.

With his hands around the carton, he sighed, recalling the circumstances of his new habit.

* * *

_It was September 12th, National Chocolate Milkshake Day. _ _Barry had just started his job as a CSI at Central City Police Department, having put his two weeks in a local museum where he was paid to explain what many patrons referred to as the "science mumbo jumbo." He and Iris were getting by, money wise, he had what was left of his last check and she was still searching for a job in the professional sector, having given Central City's take on TMZ enough of her time and fierce journalistic skills._

_He had two days before his check came through from CCPD, but as he tidied up his lab, the idea jumped him as Iris had done so many times before. He waved a goodbye to his co-worker, Patty Spivot, whose glasses sat on the end of her nose as she finalized a report. _

_Barry felt GREAT. New job, new outlook, and not to mention, sharing the present with the girl of his dreams. He had been driving his dad's junk car since he'd passed, cherishing it a bit more than most of Central City's more successful moguls. It was red, beat up, the remnants of what looked like lightning bolts on both the driver and passenger's side doors. His dad had always said the lightning bolts were on there when he first bought the car, but he knew it was a fib._

_ He recalls his mother's auburn hair curtaining along his face as she whispered,"Your dad used to have quite the time street racing."_

_Barry grinned at the memory as he shoved his lanky frame into the station wagon and spent the next half hour collecting the most economical ingredients for milkshakes. He comes barreling into APT. 312, arms full, and the smile on his face threatening to split his cheeks. He had missed Iris, knowing she'd been having a hard time finding a firm to write for and wanting badly to rectify the situation.   
_

_"BABE, MILKSHAKES FOR DINNER" he elongates the words with comedic effect, stepping over their shoes, as he comes upon her. She is settled against the kitchen island, clutching her head, before looking up to him with an expression of contempt. Barry's mouth twists, scurrying away from the smile and stumbling to accommodate the new ambience._

_He hesitantly drops the bags to the counter, handing them off in confusion and slight disappointment, his finger tweaking at the plastic of the bag as he dejectedly replied,"Or no milkshakes for dinner."_

_Iris scoffs, finally facing him with her chocolate eyes glistening. A mockingbird pecks at his aorta, threatening a hemorrhage as his mouth turns downward into a frown._

_"W-What?" He counters,"I got mint chocolate chip, it's your favorite." _

_He notices now that she has her computer tossed to the side, nearing the edge of the countertop. It's when he least expects it that her mouth opens and her lips wrap around words with malice, sharpening the existing, dull ache._

_"Who the fuck is Patty?" _

_Barry answers cautiously, putting his hands up in defense,"She is my co-worker. She's a really good CSI."_

_"Oh, is she? Sounds like she's your favorite," She spits, practically throwing the laptop toward him when he sees that his emails are displayed on the screen. _

** _To: barryallen@ccpd.org_ **

** _From: pattyspivot@ccpd.org_ **

** _Subject: Thank You_ **

** _Barry Allen,_ **

** _I can't tell you how much I appreciate the time we've been spending together. I feel like we're getting closer. We work well together_ **

** _and I can't wait to continue. Thank you,_ **

** _Your favorite CSI, Patty x_ **

_Before Barry gets a word in, Iris launches into a very well-executed interpretation of the email, reciting it with a slimy, high-pitched voice and everything. It almost hurts him to suppress a smile, but then he realizes that this is no joking matter. He knows in the way Iris's hands shake as she clutches onto the laptop, her eyes wide, but disturbed. The burgeoning energy threatens to implode as Barry stutters, attempting to shove his words into any empty space she neglects.   
_

_Patty's father was murdered during a heist six months ago. She and Barry had been working together to map out suspects and revisit evidence, in hopes of bringing justice to her late caretaker. They wanted to reopen the case, but needed more evidence to solidify reasoning, until the other day when they came across a witness statement that offered a clear description of the shooter. This was exactly what they needed to reopen, to give Patty a chance to find closure and crack her first big case._

_He couldn't tell Iris this now, knowing by the nature of her breath, the way she rolled her lip between her teeth, beginning to pace back and forth in front of the counter._

_She suddenly stops, bouncing on her heels,"Are you fucking cheating on me, Barry? Be honest, for once!"_

_He had remained calm for the most part, but at the crackling of her words in the air, his brow furrowed and anger bubbled in his throat. The milkshake ingredients represented the singular stillness, their thudding hearts bouncing off the walls in a disconcerting manner. _

_"For once? What the fuck does that mean?" He barks, mirroring her from the other side of the counter._

_She's crying now. Hot tears slipping down her beautiful face. If he weren't so pissed, he would comfort her. She's curtailing her verbs with the emotion,"You have been coming home late. Every goddamn night. You don't touch me anymore. You don't talk. What the fuck did I do, Barry? Why can't you tell me the truth?"_

_"Iris," he puffs out a breath,"I am not cheating on you, Patty is a friend, and you're being ridiculous right now."_

_"Oh, so my feelings are ridiculous now? Fuck off."_

_Barry licks over his lips in frustration, furiously shaking his head,"Stop that shit right now, okay? I get it. Central City Picture News didn't call you back. I'm sorry, Iris. But, accusing me of cheating on you isn't helping matters."  
_

_Her reply is so icy, it's absolute zero when her words shatter the stagnancy with a slightly maniacal laugh. "You think I'm throwing a tantrum because I didn't get my way?"_

_Barry is quick to counter with a critical tone,"I think that's exactly it. You need to grow the fuck up."  
_

_She's laughing again, the tears sloping down her chin,"You get the job of your dreams and then I mean nothing, huh?"_

_Barry scoffs, reminding her how supportive he's been of her job search,"Listen, you know that shit isn't true. I have been with you the entire time, helping you prepare for interviews, and reading your pieces... God, Iris, do you think I do that shit for fun?"_

_He knows how it sounds and he wants to feel guilty, but in the moment, he doesn't care. He wants to gut her like she does him. She's breathing loudly, preparing to shout with the intention of shattering the windows until her point is made. He feels it. _

_"You're such a goddamn liar! You're tired of me and you're taking the easy way out!" She bellows._

_Barry doesn't hesitate to continue her volumes, finalizing their rage with,"Maybe I am tired, tired of giving my all and you still doubting me. I'm sorry I'm successful and you're not! Get over it, IRIS!"_

_These words, entwined with malice and ill intention, were what prompted the relaxation of Iris's shoulders. Her defensive stance melted into defenseless, her tears flowing, as she shrugged a hand across her face. _

_"Fuck you, Barry."_

_Those words were the last she said to him. The ice cream melted, the milk spoiled, and she was gone._

* * *

The intensity of the memory caused his stomach to turn, urging him to return the ice cream to the cooler. Barry sunk his hand into his pocket, fumbling with the twenty dollar bill as he approached his Plan B, the bakery. Brownies and beer, while an unlikely combination, had been serving him generally well every other day when he remembered to eat. He isn't paying any attention until another shopper's cart collides with his lanky frame, causing him to hiss in a quiet admission of pain. 

He rushes to apologize, lips wrapping around the common courtesy when the woman's face comes into view. Barry stifles a curse, holds a breath, and feels his heart stutter like Bill Denbrough from It all at the same time.

Iris.

He knows his eyes are twinkling, how they have been starving and pleading to see her face one more time. She is still as radiant, her skin complementing matching eyes, no longer devoid of warmth. Beautiful, her smile gone now, fleeting like their love, but entirely beautiful. He tears his gaze from her face to gaze upon a child, a baby, no older than three months, he'd say. His heart is a raw piece of meat, it's rancid and Publix decided to discard it. She moved on.

They were both looking at the baby, Iris's eyes were sad, but cherishing as she looked between he and the tiny human. He breaks the silence, putting on his best,"I'm happy for you," voice, though it felt like it was scraping his throat as his words escaped. It starts as curiosity, as if he's looking for the imminent heartache, until he is jabbering, leaning a fragile hand against the brownie display. Shit goes from zero to one hundred when his dumb ass tells her he's happy she moved on, knowing it's the most weighted lie he's ever told. Jealousy is barbed wire, dressed around his neck and discouraging movement.

He nods in reply to her reticent words, working hard to keep his tears at bay. It isn't until she says his name, so unfamiliar, that Barry yanks himself from his reveries. He gulps, swallowing back the thickness of tears in his throat as he braces himself to feign happiness in response to news of her new boyfriend, or husband, or whatever.

"She's ours."

Barry had never had a lot of trouble bench pressing, but this unanticipated weight caused him to stagger, literally and figuratively. His thin lips mimicked his headphones, convoluted and paralyzed by their own complication. Theirs? His eyes fell to the baby, words tussling with burgeoning tears, wondering how he ever lived without knowing she existed.

His words come out frail, frangible like peanut brittle, yet introspective.

She says nothing, nodding her head and gently pushing the cart to the side as she moves toward him. His words were pleading, despite fully expecting her to rebuke.

"Yeah, you can hold her," she murmurs through a stuffy nose, shifting Dawn in her arms as Barry opens his own with uncertainty.

The moment her plush form settles into his arms, the tears fall from his piercing eyes. She gurgles, placing a chubby hand against his cheek with a toothless smile that threatened to befall him. He loves her, all thirteen pounds of her. All three months of her.

He asked tearfully,"What's her name?"

Iris swallows, maintaining a close proximity as she gingerly rests her hand on his upper bicep.

"Dawn, it's Dawn."


	3. Dawn Go Breaking My Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wait and see, my speedsters! I have had quite the week and all I wanted to do was fall into some angsty, but loving west-allen. Hope you guys are doing well!

Iris didn't realize how much the image before her would weaken her joints, back to cookie crumbles, she was soggy in milk. She was drowning in it and she was desperate. She had heard her sweet baby coo and cry far too often to miss it, but in this moment, with Dawn in her father's arms, Iris would have given anything to rescue herself from the unanticipated clouding of her mind. Barry's baritone plucked her from the too-full glass, her eyes softening as she returned to a burgeoning reality.

"She's beautiful, Iris," He murmured with a familiar glistening of his eyes, causing the young woman to confront a handful of memories that only traumatized her after Dawn had drifted to sleep.

They weren't too far from one another at this point, his form towering over her as it always had. She was nearly close enough to study the unpredictably intrepid flecks of youth, what was once welcoming, now dim in his eyes. God, he was just as gorgeous as she remembered. More disheveled, like an unmade bed that somehow manifested a hideously, borderline hilarious five o'clock shadow. Thinner, less bright, almost as if the sun had taken a sabbatical. She couldn't be bothered to wonder whether or not her staring was causing any problems, he could barely take his eyes off of their bundle of unexpected joy.

Dawn offered Barry a gummy grin, her stubby fingers clutching onto his much longer ones with unburdened excitement. In his nature, he had to smile back twice as big, uncharacteristically swaying on his feet. Iris tussled with the urge to smile, recalling their all too clumsy dances in a cluttered apartment.

* * *

_Most of the floor space had been commandeered by her more intensive investigations, articles amid twine attempting to conjoin the endless and ongoing flurry of her thoughts. THIS would be the piece that knocked Mason Bridge off his high fucking horse. THIS is what she needed to make a name for herself: Iris Ann West: CCPN's finest investigative reporter. She could see it now, well, she saw it until Barry Allen, in all his Bigfooted glory deliberately interrupted her. _

_Iris squealed in what sounded like exasperation, but her smile bit back at any and all antagonism as he smirked back at her. She swatted at his long legs as she rose from the ground, assuming an almost protective stance as he challenged her with silent amusement. _

_"BARTHOLOMEW!" _

_"Yes, Miss West?" _

_His tone was cheeky, as he removed one of her many sources from the pad of his foot, allowing it to flutter to the ground. She leapt over the collection, crashing into his lanky form. He caught her, as always. Her hands were cupping his cheeks, brown eyes simmering in solemnity. She stroked the soft skin a bit aggressively, wavering on her tippy toes as he gazed upon her in expectation. _

_She knew him well enough, watching the transition from playful to longing. She shifted her smaller hand to splay across the back of his neck, tugging him down to her, his mouth pursing in anticipation. It wasn't until she was centimeters away from the solace of his lips that she faltered, bound by his sweet love. However, the sound of her papers ruffling under the air of the ceiling fan reminded her of the task at hand. Barry's hands snaked around her waist, squeezing, head lowered in eager receivership. _

_As soon as she felt his breath fan her face, she stroked his neck and encouraged her own false pretense. Their lips brushed and at that time, Iris landed a sportive, maybe-a-little-too-hard smack to his cheek. _

_"Respect my process, Allen," she countered smoothly._

_He recoiled, gasping in feigned pain as he backed away from her and into their small dining table, also buried beneath leads. As she approached him with the intention of mediation, he threw up a cross with his fingers, murmuring what she assumed was gibberish disguised as The Lord's Prayer._

_"Barry, you're not even catholic. Besides, it would take a lot to exorcise me."_

_This drew an unmistakable smile from him, a shrug of the shoulders, and a deceiving revenge. His fingers wrapped around her wrist, spinning her around until she leaned against his chest, laughter filtering through her long sleeved shirt as she attempted to mask it.  
_

_"A lot, indeed," he replied, ignoring her claim, though wanting to remind her of that one time he went to confessional after Iris convinced him to have sex in her parent's house during Christmas celebrations._

_He moved a hand to rest against her hip, fingers drumming along her stomach as he began to sway the both of them to the sound of sirens passing through a double-paned window. They stayed like that for awhile, not moving from their spot, pressed against one of the purple chairs. She was beginning to think he'd forgotten she was there, until her hair was shifted to the side, his mouth pressing gentle kisses to her jaw._

_She sunk into his larger form, humming along to the petal-like pressure. They had, maybe two feet of room, but she shuffled forward in a swaying motion just as he had been doing. She felt his smile against her face as a blush crept up her neck. Their hips mirrored one another, feet less than participatory, but not completely still. Iris turned her head and placed her palm along his neck, tilting his head down to meet her lips in a heated kiss. Her fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck, his hands affirming their rightful place at her hips. _

_Iris sighed by the time their mouths fell apart in exhaustion, a secret smile tugging at her now swollen lips. _

_"What were we fighting about again?" She asked whimsically._

_Barry's chuckle bounced off her rosy cheeks before he was quieted by her mouth once again. _

_She kissed him tenderly, cherishing this moment in all its cliche nature.They were literally that giant tub of cheese balls at the store, so much so that too much of them would cause one's mouth to go raw. At least they weren't dancing to Mazzy Star, okay?_

_"I love you, Barry Allen."_

* * *

The harsh remembrance of the memory did little to stop the flow of words that came tumbling out of her untamed mouth.

"I love you."

It was quick, due to its unlawful nature, but what was more rapid was the heat that crept up her face. She was mortified. Rushing to explain herself as Barry did the same, their words layering upon each other in what she would call Cake Boss's first verbal creation. Her words, while stuttering and chock-full of incongruity, replaced the fondant and his, the dust that worked to give the illusion of reality. And Dawn, well, her drool was definitely comparable to chocolate ganache.

Iris laughed nervously, brushing hair out of her face as she often did in times of social peril. Like right now.

"I-I, you know, I don't... I don't know why... I'm sorry, Bar."

She kicked herself for the nickname, flowing like honey enjoyed too late. He looked bewildered and Dawn seemed to play off of that as well, dark eyes wide in similar fashion. Instead of her hand latched to his fingers, it fell to his chest. This would have been almost comical if Iris didn't have the feeling of an impending heart attack. She was bouncing on her feet, but not as they once did. This was worried, the kind of bouncing she did when Dawn cried every night for hours.

Barry saved her. The thought jerked her, 'He always did.'

He wiped the sadness from his face, striking Iris as particularly strange. Barry wasn't the type to dismiss that kind of emotion, but what seemed free-flowing and simple, likely took a lot out of him. Believe her. She understood.

"So, how about we, um, set up a time to meet up and talk about this munchkin?" He offered, his tone was warmish, but beneath it was cinnamon glass candy. Fragile, burning, and overwhelming in its nature.

Dawn seemed to recognize the shift in mood, returning to her cheery self, even giggling as Barry bounced his index finger off the end of her nose. Iris, however, was taken aback. Did she know him anymore?

Her thoughts were interrupted as he chimed in again, a bit of hopefulness in his voice, "Iris, would that be okay?"

She nodded a few too many times before forcing a smile, reaching down to grab her phone in haste. She went out of her way to hide her home screen, which still presented a photo of them from their first New Year's Eve. She was donning red, Barry, in a navy sweater. They had garland wrapped around them, tangling the pair as they looked upon one another with pure, unadulterated love. That was one of the best nights of her life.

Iris fumbled with the contacts, until she opened the screen which allowed one's number to be put in. Barry surveyed the situation, reluctant to give Dawn back just yet, rested her on his hip as he quickly input his number. He was a bit shaky as he returned the device, a tight smile holding him together just as a shitty stitch would. He broke the silence.

"Okay, cool. We can talk about when we're gonna, you know, get together," his eyebrows rose in immediate regret as he continued, "I don't mean, like, get together, get together, you know. Yeah, you probably know, so yeah. Umm, we can just tal-" Iris cut him off.

"Barry, it's okay," she reassured, taking Dawn into her arms as he nervously relinquished her, his palm cupping her head.

"Okay."

She gently placed the baby back in the cart, attempting recovery when Barry made an offering to her. Iris's heart was racing, wondering what it could be, but when she looked up, she felt almost cheated.

It was the pacifier, small in his hand, but still, large in meaning.

"Oh, thank you, Bar. I-I'll see you soon."

He nodded curtly and then they were off, moving in contrary motion, just as they had after they'd broken. 


End file.
